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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631337">A Collection of RO Scenarios</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismaticDelight/pseuds/PrismaticDelight'>PrismaticDelight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work, The Amberwood Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>I do have a very specific playlist for CERTAIN things however, Multi, Original Character(s), Thank you for these suggestions, There's no smut because I am terrible, nice way to ease myself back into writing since I took a way too long break, some longer than others or some shorter, these will each be short</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:36:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismaticDelight/pseuds/PrismaticDelight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, I asked and you answered! I wanted to write things more on the romance side, or leaning slightly towards more adultish. While I could post this on Patreon and make it public, I figured this would be overall easier in access. I am not releasing this as paid content on Patreon as this is a sort of "hey, sorry for not posting anything and not having done any writing". If that makes sense- I hope this doesn't upset anyone!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>MC/Astrid Cain, MC/Freya Lacroix, MC/Ileana Dracul, MC/Nyx, Nyx/Cassius Descartes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nyx/MC Share A Bed...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This short comes from this ask!: Nyx and MC end up having to share a bed during the night? 👀</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “I’ll take the sofa,” Nyx says the moment we enter our suite. I choose not to argue about it. We've started dating a couple months ago, yet he insists on giving me the entire bed. I was looking forward to kicking him all night in my sleep when we were told the only room left had one bed. I close the door behind me, listening for the gentle click that sends immediate relief. The fact it does has me realizing how much this day has screwed me over.</p>
<p>            He wanders down the short entry hall, passing the bathroom at our right. I shuffle to its door and peek in, gawking. It’s probably the size of my bedroom back home — is the shower a walk-in? Thank you, Ileana. <em>Thank you. </em></p>
<p>            “Do you mind if I step out to get ice?”</p>
<p>            Taking Nyx’s path, the queen-sized bed is a siren’s call. A wine-red chiffon canopy hangs delicately from the ceiling, pooling around the bed’s black frame made to pop with its gold paint detailing. Immediately in front of our only bed is a velvet love-seat sitting before an electric polished marble fireplace, the wall-mounted flat-screen just above it. The walk-in closet sits between that and the kitchenette stretching along the back wall, framing a window. One seamless glass panel sits above the cabinets, allowing even more light. There’s a narrow-stained glass door against the back right corner and I see the beginnings of a railing, likely the balcony.</p>
<p>            If this is what a room with the fewest windows looks like…</p>
<p>            “Right now?” I ask, setting my bag onto the floor.</p>
<p>            To answer my question, Nyx tosses his own bag to the sofa then rolls up his shirt, revealing a cantaloupe sized purple bruise over his ribs. I cringe at the sight. If he tried to use magick to speed up the healing, the hotel’s alarms would go off in an instant. We’d be lucky to be kicked out.</p>
<p>            “It’s only been an hour…”</p>
<p>            Nyx shrugs as if to look as aloof as possible. “Centaurs pack a hell of a punch. Consider that lesson learned.” After fixing his shirt, he takes the metal bucket sitting on the kitchenette counter, annoyingly trying to fix the plastic bag inside. “I won’t be long; we passed the machine on the way here.”</p>
<p>            He breezes past me by the time I’ve registered what he said. His cologne drifts into my nostrils. What’s left of it, at least. Wet dirt makes up most of his scent. The cologne is more like an aftertaste coming long after the initial whiff.</p>
<p>            “Nyx.” I pat myself down, retrieving one of our keycards for my back pocket. For whatever reason, I’ve been delegated to keep track of them because he doesn’t trust himself to do the same. In any case, I hold a card out to his back, watching him turn around to face me. “Hurry up, you stink.”</p>
<p>            “Says you,” he chuckles. Nyx plucks the card from my fingers. “You smell like wet dog.”</p>
<p>            “I’m the cutest wet dog you’ll ever see.”</p>
<p>            He tilts his head and gives me a slow, not at all subtle, look over from head to toe and back again. The entire time, I’m certain I’ve forgotten how to breathe like every young adult in every fictional novel ever written. It’s like he wants to memorize every wrinkle in my shirt, every crease in my jeans, and every eyelash that bats when I blink.</p>
<p>            “I don’t think I can argue otherwise.” His lips twitch as though he were fighting back a smirk. Nyx pivots and struts for the door, the bucket swinging at his side. I watch him step out and disappear behind the closing door, exhaling hard.</p>
<p>           …Do I really smell like a wet dog? Since he’s gone, I will myself to lift the collar of my shirt and take a sniff.</p>
<p>            “Whoa-!” I cough, wrinkling my nose. I’m offensive to all five senses. It shouldn’t come as a surprise when my clothes are caked in mud and dirt and, I think, flecks of Centaur blood. Let it be on record that I didn’t shoot first. Things were going perfectly fine until one of them got a little too anxious and charged me. Today, I got to witness Ileana hurl a full-grown Centaur into a tree like he was paper. There’s a first for everything.</p>
<p>            Well, without Nyx here to claim dibs, I scrape off bits of dried and hardened mud to unzip and dig into my bag and fish out clean clothes.</p>
<p>            The suite’s shower sits within an alcove, the ceiling of it like living wallpaper of the night sky with blinking stars and constellations. I don’t let myself appreciate it now that I know how bad I smell, eagerly tearing off the layers of my attire from the day. After a moment of figuring out how the shower works, the bathroom rapidly fills with steam, easing away pain a little at a time.</p>
<p>            It gets even better when I’m finally <em>in</em> the water. I step under the shower-head, letting the waterfall run over me completely. This is the first time I’m noticing how sore I am. We’ve barely been able to get enough time to recuperate before we have to hit the road again. I’m dreading tomorrow because of it. The Centaurs were, to put it lightly, a pain in our asses. Cassius seems to take this in stride despite needing to pay the Unseelie Court a visit. Assuming we can even find them… Like all Fae, they don’t allow themselves to be found unless they desire it. In this Court, if they want us to find them, it will most certainly be a trap.</p>
<p>            Suddenly, there’s a pair of hands snaking around from behind to yank me out of my thoughts. I realize they’re Nyx’s by glancing down, his arms encasing me, chest pressing into my back and meeting me in the scalding water.</p>
<p>            “That was fast,” I murmur, already leaning back into him.</p>
<p>            He lays his head on one of my shoulders, giving it a kiss. “It motivated me knowing you’d be in here.” Nyx mumbles against my skin. The water forces his hair forward, obscuring his face.</p>
<p>            “Doesn’t this bother you?” I don’t give him the time to answer as I’m already reaching to adjust the water’s temperature. He grabs my wrist in a flash then tugs, hugging my arm against my stomach.</p>
<p>            “It does… but I don’t mind it.”</p>
<p>            I swallow. The way he hugs me puts a gentle pressure to my abdomen. I can feel more than I’m willing to let my imagination imagine against my back and thighs. “Why not?”</p>
<p>            When Nyx replies again, this time, I feel the rumble of it through his chest. He turns to lay his cheek on my shoulder and looks at me through his wet hair. Dozens of droplets race over the bridge of his nose, the contour of his cheekbone, the ridge of his brow bone. “’cause, it forces me to react to things instinctively, conserve energy.”</p>
<p>            My breath catches. “W… Won’t you pass out if you get too hot?”</p>
<p>            His lips stretch, forming a toothy grin that I can’t describe in any other way beyond dangerous. <em>Deliciously dangerous</em>. “All the more reason to be quicker, isn’t it?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Cassius/Nyx</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I really just felt like writing some Nyx x Cassius. No idea why. So I decided to post this here as I posted recently on Patreon and wanted to add a little something to make up for the wait while I work on chapter 4. I love scenes like this. One character is injured, leaving the other to take care of them. Yet, strangely, I hate it in movies. 😂 I think it depends on the pacing or something, no idea. It's both my favorite trope and one I hate. Kinda like The Chosen One (it really depends on the character/story then. Love reluctant heroes!) I’ve also been wanting to practice writing sexual tension! It’s both fun and difficult to do as I’m trying so hard not to sound corny or cliché. I wrote a majority of it at 2 in the morning and today, it became a bit of a plot. No idea. But it was fun! I apologize for any mistakes I may have missed!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     Nyx flips a browned page, glosses it over, then flips another to repeat the process. How is it that a two-hundred-year-old tome has absolutely nothing of value in it? He feels sorry for the idiot that spent four-hundred grand on this thing. It might as well be a scam at this point.</p><p>     Every page is intact. The writing is pristine and legible. The glue is as strong as the day it was applied. Yet-</p><p>     "I'm about to chuck this to the fucking void." Nyx grumbles before he shoves the book aside. It crumples to the floor as he rubs his tired eyes. Cursive is hard enough to read.</p><p>
  <em>     He's been reading it for four hours.</em>
</p><p>     Why couldn’t he be the one to go out and interrogate the Winter Fae? He can teleport for God's sake! Cassius moves like a boulder, a fast one, sure, but have him zigzag and he'll trip on air. For being a cop, Nyx would expect him to be... slicker than that. He's heard their magick is like bullets when they start attacking. Cassius is probably swiss cheese right now. And what is Nyx doing? Sitting here in a hotel suite, —a damn luxurious one at that thanks to the detective's connections— munching on sourdough pretzel sticks and twisting his eyeballs into knots over tiny handwritten cursive. His nose constantly assaulted by a sweet subtle aroma lingering in the air throughout the hotel. Whatever they use to clean this place smells distantly like candy. If he sniffs hard enough, he swears it tickles his nostrils.</p><p>
  <em>     THUD! THUD!</em>
</p><p>     Nyx's head jerks up to the door at the end of a short hallway at the other end of the suite. His instincts tell him to launch himself out the window or pounce whomever is on the other side. He shakes his head, unfolding his legs so he can wobble his way to the door. Each step sends sharp tingles as blood flows freely.</p><p>
  <em>     THUD-</em>
</p><p>     "I'm coming, geez!" He strides and unlocks the door, whipping it open. Cassius instantly stumbles in, weight crashing full force into Nyx who grunts. "Whoa—"</p><p>     One of Cassius' hands slap against the wall for balance, the other blindly reaching behind to shove the door shut with a forceful slam. Sorry, neighbors.</p><p>     "I need," Cassius wheezes. "I need you to play doctor for a while."</p><p>     "Doctor? The hell, just go to the hos..." Nyx feels something warm and sticky on his hands. On the back of the detective's navy-blue sweater. "...pital.." he finishes in his realization.</p><p>
  <em>     It's blood.</em>
</p><p>     "Shit!" Adrenaline kicks in a full force. He does what he can to half-walk half-drag Cassius to the coffee table of rugged stone and silver painted legs. The bed is clear on the other side of the room on a platform. He doubts Cassius can lift his foot high enough for a single step.</p><p>     "What the fuck happened?" Nyx asks, his fingers hooking into the quarter sized hole. <em>RIIIIP!</em></p><p>     The cold table feels wonderful to Cassius right now. But his poor sweater. He just washed it enough times that it became soft. "Bullets." he groans. Nyx's usually cool hands feel like fire on his exposed skin. "They solidified and hardened their magick to resemble the average bullet."</p><p>     "What kind of bullet?" Nyx grimaces.</p><p>     "Hollow point," Cassius answers.</p><p>     "Is that good or bad?"</p><p>     "<em>It hurts either way.</em>"</p><p>     Right. Pain. Blood. Nyx drops onto his knees beside the table. His hands hover inches above the open wound painted crimson. "Deep breaths because I'm not gonna be gentle."</p><p>     Cassius audibly sucks in a breath. Without any hesitation, Nyx summons his magick forth. Familiar darkness swirls around his wrists to his fingertips, diving into the wound that makes the man below hiss and tense. He needs to find the "bullet". And the only way it can be felt and found is by external magick. That's why Cassius didn't go to a hospital.</p><p>     If he were to be scanned, the magick bullet would never be visible. Not even to the naked eye is it seen. Leslie might be able to because she sensitive to it, just like her child. Nyx can't see it, forcing him to, essentially, do it blindly.</p><p>     "<em>Ow</em>-!" Cassius abruptly exclaims.</p><p>     Nyx nearly jumps out of his skin. "Fuck, stop moving! Are you trying to make this worse?!"</p><p>     "Just imagine playing Operation, Nyx. Except I'm not a board and I'll scream." Okay, so <em>nothing</em> like Operation.</p><p>     "Yeah, I always touched the walls. Leslie's kid was the only one who could play it and beat us." He takes a relaxing breath to shake off the jitters of Cassius' exclamation and his own adrenaline causing his hands to tremble. Nyx should've put music on when he was reading. It would've made this so much better.</p><p>     So, he focuses on his own breathing. He keeps it slow and even. His magick caresses the bullet lodged beside Cassius' right shoulder blade. Nyx half wonders how close to his lung it got at this angle. The magick of the Winter Fae feels like the coldest ice burning his own, frosting it. But it still wraps around nice and snug before beginning its ascent.</p><p>     "How you holding up?" Nyx has his voice quiet as if any louder would disturb the process.</p><p>     Cassius groans lowly. "Never been better."</p><p>     He feels his voice reverberate through his magick. It's weird, to say the least. Cassius' considerably pale skin is regaining its natural complexion visibly. The Fae's magick must've been absorbing something out of him. Poisoning? Well, it doesn't matter now that Nyx has the invisible bullet free.</p><p>     His magick shifts to fire that rapidly turns the encased bullet to cinders. With a blow through pursed lips, it's no more than a memory.</p><p>     Cassius' breathing, once labored, now rights itself. "Stitches." he says.</p><p>     "Can't heal it with magick?"</p><p>     "That'd defeat the purpose of the Winter Court's cruelty."</p><p>     So Nyx retrieves the first aid kit from his bag on the bed then shuffles back, popping the transparent case open. "Mind filling me in on the details? I thought you were negotiating."</p><p>     With considerable effort, Cassius groans while he sits up. He straddles the coffee table, leaving Nyx room to sit behind him. "We were. For two and half hours. Then for thirty minutes, I was left on my own because 'something happened', and when they came to get me, they tried to kill me. So. Not keen on talking."</p><p>     "At all?" As they speak, Nyx cleans around the wound with a sterile wipe after prepping the needle. He hates this part.</p><p>     "I doubt taking Ileana would've made a difference but," Cassius shrugs his uninjured shoulder, "she probably would've kept the bullets from flying."</p><p>     The first stitch begins with breaking the skin. It makes Nyx's stomach churn. "You should've called one of us." he says, slightly agitated that Cassius <em>didn't</em>. "You should've called me. All I was doing was research."</p><p>     "Which is important," reminds the brunette running a hand through his hair. "We find the seal, figure out its purpose and origin, and we're a step closer.</p><p>"Okay, but I'm not exactly thrilled about your remains being sent to us in a cursed jar made from the bones of a tortured Fae."</p><p>     Cassius sighs heavily. He makes a gesture for Nyx to pause, and he does, silently watching the blood-stained shirt painfully be removed. Nyx can just picture the sorrow on his face. They'll have to bury it and give it a proper funeral.</p><p>     "I'll tell your boss." threatens Nyx in a huff, resuming his task once Cassius is still again.</p><p>     "What do you think she'll do beyond give me a verbal spanking, Nyx? If I called you when things hit the fan, you would've gotten shot and— ow!" Cassius tries to jerk away when Nyx stabs the needle with way more force than necessary. "You're supposed to make your patient feel better not make it worse."</p><p>     "You asked me to play doctor, detective. You don't get to complain." he grumbles. The wound is mostly sewn shut anyway.</p><p>     A punctual silence falls over them. Nyx cuts the thread he ties off seconds later with small sterling silver scissors from the kit. The flesh irritated and red, tender. Cassius peeks over his shoulder. He watches the other put things away, carry the kit back to stuff in his bag. It's the way he walks and bunches his shoulders that tell the detective Nyx isn't happy with him.</p><p>     Cassius knows what he did was reckless. Ideally, yes, he should have called for assistance. If not from Nyx, or Freya, or the others, then at least agents from SND. But he feared they'd be gravely injured. If not killed. He didn't want to be the reason for either nor the cause because he couldn't successfully negotiate with a group of finicky, demanding and outright corrupt Fae.</p><p>     Now, Nyx is drifting to the kitchenette. Specifically, to the mini fridge that blends seamlessly into smooth black cabinets. The alcohol is stored there. Go figure.</p><p>     "Nyx," Cassius calls, testing the waters, staring at the named man's onyx clad back.</p><p>     No response. Nyx bends down, pulls out a can of beer and stands back upright.</p><p>     "Nyx," Cassius tries again, this time a bit louder like he couldn't hear.</p><p>     "Nope, I don't wanna hear it." The can pops open. A soft hiss sounds at the release of air. "You deserve the cold shoulder for this."</p><p>     That's... valid. He supposes. But still. Come on. He's alive! Doesn't that count for anything anymore? Cassius tosses his ruined sweater onto the sofa on his way onto his feet, carrying himself to Nyx's side.</p><p>     "One person, Nyx. <em>Just one</em> got hurt. Now that I'm familiar with their arsenal, I can pass the intel along so we'll be prepared when returning. This time with more people. A team." Cassius says this somewhere between speaking plainly and logically.</p><p>     Nyx scoffs with a shake of his head, slamming the can full of beer onto the countertop. "You may piss me off to no end sometimes, but I've lost enough people in my life and I'm not even fucking thirty yet." He turns suddenly and faces Cassius. The space between them mere inches. Nyx's expression is both solemn and vexed. Dark irises search silver. "I'm not willing to add you to that list. It's already too long. I'd rather you die because of a... an accident. Some incurable disease. Something out of your control, not you playing heroics."</p><p>     "Is that what you thought I was doing?" Cassius asks ever so quietly. His voice meant only for the two of them.</p><p>     "Well what the hell else would it be?" Nyx rolls his eyes. "Seriously, after <em>everything </em>we've done, you don't need to throw your life on the line for the rest of us. Or anyone. And if you do, and manage to die, I'll make sure you can't move on."</p><p>     "Your cruelty knows no bounds, does it?"</p><p>     Nyx snatches his can up. "Much like your stupidity," he says, pressing it to his lips.</p><p>     Cassius chuckles as he folds his arms. Then winces. He's already forgotten about his injury. "You remind me of an ex from high school."</p><p>     "Wow. I'm flattered." If sarcasm could be spoken so intensely it became tangible, it would've sliced the detective's jugular just then.</p><p>     "Mm, you should be actually," he hums. "He was charming. Like... Chris Pine level of charming."</p><p>     Nyx chokes on his beverage intake, eyes blown wide. "Whoa, back up. <em>'He'</em>?"</p><p>     Cassius flashes a toothy grin. "I experimented. I only met him because we went against each other in a fight and, I'll admit, he kicked my ass. And I liked that. He was a challenge."</p><p>     "...What kind of kid were you?"</p><p>     "The kind with too much free time and lack of moral code." He shrugs. "I grew up surrounded by military and law enforcement, it was inevitable."</p><p>     "Okay..." Nyx is going to short circuit if he keeps trying to imagine a rebellious Cassius Descartes flipping off authority and grinning at the camera when getting his mugshot taken. "So... how do I remind you of him?"</p><p>     For a short moment, the man stares off to the side. Likely lost in thought with no discernible expression. "He called me out on my bullshit." Doesn't everyone? Actually, Freya doesn't. Or Cain. Ileana might if she cares enough... "Challenged me in everything. My ethics, morals, opinions. I even questioned my <em>aesthetics </em>from time to time. But he..." Cassius pauses, eyes drifting back to find Nyx's. "That was his way of showing he cared. By forcing me to look at things differently, beyond myself."</p><p>     Nyx swallows, feeling odd. "I, uh, yeah. That's not me. At all. Probably. I just hate it when you try to be a shield for others as if you don't have people who worry about you or will back you up if you asked." he said. He takes a gulp from the can. The beer tastes... wrong somehow. But it'll do. He's never been a fan of this stuff anyway.</p><p>     "So if I called you while I was getting shot at," Cassius adjusts his footing, a shoulder pressing into the wall mounted cabinets, "you'd show up."</p><p>     Nyx nods during his swallow. "In a heartbeat. Like I said, you piss me off. But you don't deserve to die either. Unless you do something really fucked up."</p><p>     "Like what?"</p><p>     His eyes roll to the ceiling. "Like... switch the chess pieces around when I'm not looking."</p><p>     Cassius snorts and ducks his head down to hide his smile. A simple casual joke has the tension easing away. "You don't even play chess."</p><p>     "I prefer checkers." Nyx fights his own smile as though letting it show would be a crime. "What's the point of getting a queen if she can't slaughter her enemies without question?"</p><p>     "You sound like Ileana," Cassius jokingly warns.</p><p>     "You can learn a lot from her." Their eyes meet again. It's simple contact. There's nothing behind their gazes beyond familiarity and understanding. "She probably knows a thing or two about when you should be selfless... and when to ask for help."</p><p>     Given Cassius' history... it makes perfect sense why he didn't. Why it's a last resort for him. Should he come out and tell Nyx that story? Would it help him understand?</p><p>     "Nyx," Cassius takes a micro step forward but the former raises his fist, pressing it center to his chest to stop him.</p><p>     "If you get in a shitty situation, call for backup. That's why we're here. The cases don’t mean shit if we're dropping dead. That's all I'm saying." Nyx's knuckles dig lightly. There's a smudge of Cassius' blood on one of them.</p><p>     Unwilling to press, Cassius is silent and about to step back when Nyx's hand unfolds. He watches his eyes find grazes stretching along his hips. Nyx can probably see the mostly faded scars from old injuries from his wild youth. There's one in particular he finds interesting. Right under the breast, a narrow path of darkened skin that resembles spray paint with scattered edges. The hand drifts so his thumb can touch it. There, the skin is rougher, textured. Like watercolor paper.</p><p>     "A burn," Cassius murmurs. "She was small and scrawny. I misjudged and she threw something at me. It stained the floor, my pants... and burned my skin."</p><p>     "Did it hurt?" Cringe. Of course it fucking hurt. It's a burn. <em>Idiot.</em></p><p>     "No, not at all. It left me paralyzed for about half an hour though." Cassius chuckles like the memory humors him. Nyx feels it through his hand. The man laughs with his chest. It bounces his shoulders. It vibrates throughout.</p><p>     "Nyx," Cassius whispers, "I'm sorry I didn't call for someone. I should have."</p><p>     "Yeah. You should've." Nyx tilts his chin up and his hand swipes away. "But, I dunno, I guess..." He shakes his head. "You're here now. That's what matters, right?"</p><p>     "It does," Cassius slowly agrees. "But it's strangely refreshing to see you worry about me."</p><p>     "Like I said, I lost enough people."</p><p>     "What would you have done if I was added to the list?"</p><p>     Nyx blinks. "I..." Then frowns. "I don't know. And I don't want to know. At least not for another few more years."</p><p>     He quirks a brow. "Just a few?"</p><p>     "Would you rather I say months?"</p><p>     "I'd rather you say never."</p><p>     "Then you'd have to be immortal."</p><p>     "I'll ask Ileana to Turn me."</p><p>     "I don't even want to imagine you as a Vampire, first of all. Second, you'd be miserable living forever." Nyx can almost find the humor in Cassius dressed like some out of touch aristocrat in his darkened gothic castle.</p><p>     "Not if I was with you." Cassius stands a little taller. "I'd need your cynicism and chihuahua behavioral attitude to scare potential suitors off."</p><p>     "<em>Chihuahua</em>?" Nyx gawks, offended. "Can't I at least be the misunderstood bulldog?"</p><p>     "No. You're the yappy all bark and no bite ankle biter."</p><p>     "Fuck off, I can bite plenty. Just because I haven't bitten at all doesn't mean these teeth can't do some damage." <em>Chihuahua.</em> Insulting. If anything, that should be Freya! Except the chihuahua can turn into a python or something.</p><p>     "Yeah? Hurt me then." Cassius dares. His expression completely serious.</p><p>     "Didn't I hurt you enough with a needle? What are you, a masochist?" Nyx won't shame him, but he's asking the wrong person.</p><p>     "I'll make you a bulldog if you hurt me. Otherwise, you're still the ankle biter."</p><p>     "Come on, I just did unlicensed and untrained surgery on you—"</p><p>     Cassius takes <em>one </em>step and he has Nyx caged against the counter between his arms. Nyx may be slighter taller but somehow, Cassius feels like a giant overshadowing him. An eclipse. In his abrupt desire to step back, Nyx's elbow knocked over the beer can, spilling amber liquid into the sink. Not that he cares. He's focusing solely on the muscular man.</p><p>     "Think of it as... payback. Revenge. Karma." Cassius suggests, eyes level with Nyx's. "Hurt me. I've seen you fight; I know you can."</p><p>     Nyx shifts awkwardly. "What if... I don't want to...?"</p><p>     "Then I'll hurt you until you retaliate," he answers plainly.</p><p>     "You already did."</p><p>     That takes the wind out of Cassius. They've spent considerable amounts of time together, the two of them and the others. They've gotten to know each other in ways Cassius never expected from people he would work with. In ways Nyx never afforded himself the luxury of imagining. <em>Oh, Nyx, you little puppy</em>. He bites at the ankles to bring them back<em>. “If I bite a little harder, they'll have to pay attention to me.”</em> Well... it's working. It's working exceptionally well.</p><p>     "Hey..." Nyx begins, voice just barely a whisper. "I... don't want to hurt you any more than I've already done, Cas. Like I said, you're still alive. You came back. Just maybe not the way we intended."</p><p>     Cassius rolls his lips to moisten them, an action he catches Nyx glancing it for a fraction of a second. It wasn't his intention to draw attention to them. It was done innocently enough. And yet— "I always come back."</p><p>     "That's borderline a promise." Nyx sounds skeptical. "Don't make promises you can't keep."</p><p>     "Then what can I do to make you worry a little less, hm?" Cassius tilts his head. "Tell me. If I have to go alone again... tell me what I can do so you can focus on other things?"</p><p>     The counter digs into Nyx's lower back. He could very well escape, duck under an arm. All he'd have to do is slam the heel of his hand into the guy's nose or knee him in the groin. But he doesn't want to. Nope. For some fucking reason-- oh god, it's because he had to nurse him back to health, isn't it? He's seen it enough on TV. It's a pivotal scene to drive characters together and he walked right into it.</p><p>     Nyx <em>wants</em> to feel stubble on his fingertips, he wants it to scratch his cheeks. He wants to find more scars and learn their stories— is that weird?— and see how Cassius' face changes with every tale. He wants to feel warm body heat clashing against his cooler. He wants to see how much Cassius' hand swallows his own.</p><p>     Something then, in all these thoughts, shifts. A pull. A tug. A guidance. It's charged and heavy yet simultaneously weightless and exhilarating.</p><p>     Cassius is tensing like he's holding himself back. Because he is. Because everything Nyx finds himself wanting... he wants it tenfold. No. No, not want.</p><p>     <em>Need</em>. It's primal. It's carnivorous. It's dangerous and greedy. Like the Sin of Lust themself found a vessel in his body.</p><p>     "You, uh, could have someone on speed dial...?" Nyx struggles to speak. He's only answering because he realizes he hasn't yet.</p><p>     "What if I can find an opportunity to call? Or text?" Cassius edges closer.</p><p>     "Have you tried the pigeon method? You can't tell me one of your SND buddies aren't capable of training a bird."</p><p>     "What if I only want to hear your voice? What if I want to hear you say my name?"</p><p>     "I'll probably insult you, you know." Nyx presses himself into that edge. The dull ache isn't enough to pull him out of Cassius' orbit.</p><p>     "Insult me then. Call me whatever you want."</p><p>     "Whatever I want?"</p><p>     Cassius nods, actually <em>looking down</em> at Nyx who has apparently decided to shrink. Metaphorically. His knees are bent. If he truly shrank, there'd be cause for concern.</p><p>     A word forms itself in his thoughts. It burns Nyx's tongue. He swears he hears voices begging him to say it aloud to the point it gains a physical weight. It'll choke him if he tries to swallow it down.</p><p>     It comes with a literal growl, as if Nyx was an animal. A Were tapping into their canine side. "<em>Mine.</em>"</p><p>     Cassius doesn't know who moves first but in the next heated second, their lips are crashing together. He instantly scoops Nyx up by the waist, lifting to have him sit on the counter. There aren't any thoughts in his head. He's done this before. There's always thoughts ranging from insecurity to worry. <em>Am I doing this right? Did I turn the stove off completely?</em> But not here. Not now. His hands make such easy work of rolling up Nyx's shirt. He wanted to tear it off like what was done to his own. Instead, it's blindly flung aside as they can barely keep their lips apart long enough to do anything.</p><p>     Nyx hooks his fingers in the belt loops of Cassius' jeans and roughly pulls him close, forcing their hips together. The friction, Cassius can already tell, is going to be what kills him. Never mind magick bullets and murderous Fae.</p><p>     The ache of a fresh wound throbs but it's paid no mind when Cassius forces himself lower, smothering the crook of Nyx's neck in hot kisses. Each earn himself a gasp, a sigh, but not a moan. Not yet. No, no those are to be treasured. They have to be coaxed out. Nyx won't dare let himself be heard making such a sound if he has anything to say about it.</p><p>     Hands are fumbling just to feel what little skin is exposed, burning one another equally. Cassius bites a spot at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It makes Nyx squirm. Hands latch onto his hips and squeeze, tugging and pulling. Nyx's own hands dig into Cassius' hair destined to be a tangled mess after this, his legs wrapping themselves around him.</p><p>     All Cassius is doing is marking his--</p><p>     His territory. Yeah. This is his. No one else. He's claimed it. He's staked it. He's earned it. Hasn't he?</p><p>     Yet Nyx boldly rolls his hips, unraveling the shapeshifting detective who moans from his throat. A delicious sound, really.</p><p>     "I was thinking of letting you on top until you did that," Cassius says against his skin. He's left behind an imprint of his teeth.</p><p>     "Yeah? Now what are you gonna do?" Nyx asks coyly, breathless.</p><p>     If only he could see the wolfish grin that blooms. "<em>I still have the rest of you to claim, puppy.</em>"</p><p>----------</p><p>     The suite is still, dark, and quiet. Devoid of any signs of life. Beside the bed is an enormous window facing the balcony overlooking the city. A nice sight at this hour. Bathed in the ambient light, a lump wiggles in the right bed's. Then a hand pops out from underneath. Then a head.</p><p>     The head of a groggy detective feeling rather sore. And stiff. Which makes sense. He did get shot after all.</p><p>     Cassius groans, forcing himself to slowly sit up and throw his legs over. Bare feet cooled by chilly carpet. He passes the left bed, a bed he doesn't notice is empty, on his way to the bathroom.</p><p>     He takes care of his business without an issue, without turning a light on. Although... he slowly realizes he didn't have pants to pull down. Or underwear. Did he go to bed naked? Cassius hates sleeping without clothes of some kind on. But he was shot. Except every other time he's been shot, he's never wanted to sleep naked. But he's never been shot with magickal bullets....</p><p>     Cassius' face twists in the darkness as he washes his hands, unable to figure himself out. He turns to the towel rack only to swipe the hand towel off. So he goes down to pick it up and brushes his knuckles against another material. A softer one.</p><p>     He grabs it blindly before feeling the walls up for a light switch. It flashes on and he's momentarily blinded into shutting his eyes. A moment goes by until they open, finding that he holds a pair of plain black briefs.</p><p>     ....</p><p>     ...Cassius doesn't own black underwear.</p><p>     And they always pick up their clothes after changing to avoid losing anything or mixing up their items.</p><p>     His reflection in his peripheral catches his attention. <em>Oh fuck</em> is his body littered with strange markings. Little bruises, light scratches and- ...wait. Wait. <em>Wait the fuck a second—</em></p><p>     Mind whirling, Cassius makes a beeline for the beds. The bathroom shines like a spotlight, highlighting the scattered clothes. Pants. Underwear. Socks. Belt. That one is Nyx's. And that one is Cassius'.</p><p>     There's another lump in Cassius' bed. Nyx's is empty. Nyx's is empty.</p><p>     Nyx's bed is empty.</p><p>     Oh no. Oh no no no no. No. Holy fuck.</p><p>     That explains the stiffness. The marks. The--</p><p>     Satisfactionnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooo.</p><p>     No.</p><p>
  <em>     NO.</em>
</p><p>     Nope. Denial is good. Mmhm. It's served Cassius all this time just fine. A sprinkle more won't hurt.</p><p>     "Turn the light off..." Nyx grumbles from under the bed. Cassius turns to stone at the sound of it. Metaphorically. Unfortunately. Can he turn himself to stone?</p><p>     "Nyx, wake up." Cassius orders, swiping up his own underwear and jeans to stuff himself into them. "<em>Wake up.</em>"</p><p>     "Is someone dying?" Nyx asks, unmoving.</p><p>     "No, but someone probably will be." And Cassius hopes it's himself.</p><p>     "Mmn, then who cares...?"</p><p>     "Nyx, you really need to--"</p><p>     "I'm trying to sleep. Which means no talking."</p><p>     "I'm well aware what sleepi—"</p><p>     "So stop talking. I can't go back to sleep if you're flapping your gums—"</p><p>     Fuck it. "Nyx, I think we slept together."</p><p>     Silence.</p><p>     It's bone crushing. Cassius is trying to will himself into melting like a snowman under the sun.</p><p>     "...we shared a bed...?" Nyx sounds innocently curious. God dammit.</p><p>     "No." Cassius takes a very, very large step back. "As in..." Why is he tiptoeing around this?! "We had sex."</p><p>     3...</p><p>     2...</p><p>     1...</p><p>     Nyx rockets upright, the blanket flying into his lap as he exclaims: <em>"WHAT!?</em>” Wild eyes rake over the partially obscured frame of Cassius, barely making out very distinct markings that smother his body. “Why in the <em>fuck</em> would I have sex with you?!”</p><p>     “Please don’t ask me questions I don’t know the answer to,” Cassius mumbles. He gives Nyx more than enough space when he scrambles out of bed, silently dangling his underwear by a finger. Nyx curses something along the way of snatching it from him and stumbling into it. Cassius is surprised he doesn’t scream at his reflection. Because the detective certainly is. Internally.</p><p>      “We… we can’t mention this. To anyone. Ever. <em>Ever.</em>” Nyx says through his teeth while furiously rubbing a hickey Cassius left behind. “I need to bathe in acid…”</p><p>      Cassius bites his tongue, looking away. By his foot is the discarded tome Nyx had been going through. The sight of it makes the detective tilt his head in thought. He can’t remember what happened. He only sees and feels the results of— he glances up to the clock sitting on the nightstand between both beds. It’s two in the morning. Cassius had to have returned to the room early in the afternoon as he initially left at nine. He thinks he got back sometime after one.</p><p>     He can’t remember the last <em>twelve hours</em>.</p><p>     “Do you recall anything from today, Nyx?” Cassius asks aloud as he stands staring at the tome.</p><p>     A bewildered, disheveled Nyx pokes his head out of the bathroom. “What?”</p><p>     “Do you remember anything about today?”</p><p>     “Uh,” Nyx’s hands rub over his abdomen. “I remember waking up, us going over the plan with the group. You leaving. Me reading. Cleaning lady went by but I didn’t let her in. She was annoying anyway; she was singing to her music or whatever.” He pauses to dig deeper into his memories. His brows slowly come together. “But…I… I can’t remember anything after we spoke when you got back.”</p><p>      Cassius, very slowly, lets out a long breath. His head rolls back until he stares at the ceiling, arms hanging limply at his sides. “Did the air smell sweet during or after she cleaned?”</p><p>      “Yes…?” Nyx doesn’t like where this is going.</p><p>      The detective’s head falls forward into a hand, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Succubus.”</p><p>       “Succubus? You said none work here. That they aren’t hired in hotels.” Much less anywhere. They can release powerful aphrodisiac pheromones if unable or unwilling to target someone directly. It also lets them feed off the lust of multiple people at a faster rate. Some Succubi have no control over it or the power is tied to their emotions. It isn’t unusual to find them in strip clubs, bars, even burlesque shows.</p><p>     “It’d be easy to fake employment if the person you’re lying to is drugged.” Remembering his shirt is ruined, Cassius locates his bag against the wall. He digs through it roughly for a new shirt, haphazardly throwing it on. “That’s why we’re missing twelve hours of memory, Nyx. I was supposed to contact the others to give them an update on the negotiations. Given how long it’s been without contact, they probably suspect the worst.”</p><p>      Nyx is picking up what he’s putting down, the pieces coming together as he comes out of the bathroom. The light traces an outline of his body, giving him an almost angelic florescent glow. He strides for the beds and shoves blankets away to find his phone. The press of a button flashes the screen on. Dozens of missed calls, texts. The longer they went without a response, the worst the messages become.</p><p>      He unlocks his phone and flicks his thumb through the group chat they’ve set up, skimming the messages until one grabs his attention.<em> If you can read this, we’re coming.</em></p><p>     “The others went to the Winter Court.” Nyx says numbly. He shows Cassius the screen when he’s standing beside him. The detective scowls.</p><p>      “It was a fucking trap.” Cassius is about to say more when Nyx stiffens. “What?”</p><p>      “I hear her.” Nyx murmurs. “Take a left out of this room, down the very end of the hall. She’s coming out of the elevator.”</p><p>     “Get dressed. I’ll see if I can pin her.”</p><p>     In seconds, Cassius has his shoes on and is dashing out of the room, taking that first left to face the extending hall. The succubus pushes a cart of cleaning supplies, vivid pink skin glowing under the lights, wild black curls bouncing with every step until she stops. She smiles. Cassius <em>just knows</em> she does. Now that they’ve seen each other, they’re walking the length towards one another. Stalking. Feeling.</p><p>     “Did you have fun, Detective? It worked better than I expected for your kind.” she muses, a mischievous glint to her pale green eyes.</p><p>     “You’re not going to deny what you’ve done?” Cassius questions stiffly.</p><p>     “Why would I? I had fun. And by the sound of it…” She stops. And so does he. All that sits between them is the cart. “You had enough to last me a couple months. <em>So passionate</em>.” She shoves the cart forward before she runs back the way she came. Cassius deftly throws himself over it, rolling into a landing. He charges after her, her giggles echoing off the walls as she slams her body into the door of the hotel’s staircase. Cassius barges in afterwards and looks up, catching a glimpse of her curls as she runs up the stairs that go on and on. An endless spiral.</p><p>      What?</p><p>     There aren’t that many floors to the building.</p><p>     “<em>I know you, Shapeshifter</em>.” Her voice taunts and reverberates. He runs up the stairs, skipping those he can afford to skip without losing his footing. She’s just out of his reach, just a staircase too far. “<em>You’re quite popular amongst my brothers and sisters.</em>”</p><p>     Suddenly, the stairs crumble under his feet. Cassius has no time to grab the railing before he’s plummeting into darkness for what feels like forever. In reality, it’s only seconds. His shoulder takes the brunt of the fall when he lands on solid concrete floor. Grunting on impact, squinted eyes watch the stairs stretch and swirl above him. The succubus is playing with his mind.</p><p>     “<em>It’s hard to find your kind. You live so quietly. And that </em>thing <em>got to have fun with you</em>.”</p><p>     “The sooner I get my hands on you—” Cassius rolls onto his stomach, needing to get up. But a foot plants itself firmly on his back. A pointed heel digs purposefully into the wound Nyx stitched.</p><p>     “<em>Your friends will be fine, love. The Winter Court needs them. They’d be wonderful specimen to study, maybe make weapons out of</em>.” purrs the succubus above him as she adjusts the angle of her foot so she breaks into the wound. Cassius groans aloud, the pain sharp. “<em>As for you… I think you’ll be my perfect lapdog. Don’t you agr—</em> agh!”</p><p>      Nyx’s body collides with her own, sending her flying into the gray wall of concrete with so much force, it cracks. He grabs Cassius’ arm and struggles to lift him up, draping the arm over his shoulder. Without a word, darkness swallows them, the sounds muffle as Nyx teleports them away.</p><p>      “Oh no you don’t. He’s mine, sweetheart.” The succubus wipes away a bit of blood on her lip then launches forward and upward through the tunnel created by winding stairs. She can smell them. Their fear, the dying lust and sweat. So just as Nyx reappears to set Cassius on the sixth level staircase, she grabs his arm, nails now talons sinking deep into him. Nyx exclaims something before she throws him over her shoulder like yesterday’s garbage into the wall like he had done before.</p><p>     “God, just fuck off already!” Nyx yells, peeling himself off the wall his ass was partially embedded into. His left arm is fucked. Four distinct and wide-open tears along his forearm gush blood. He won’t last terribly long at this rate.</p><p>      “And waste the best prey I’ve had in months?” She laughs. “You wish.” She pounces, tackling him to the stairs. The two struggle to overpower one another. Every time she tries to cause him a twisted illusion, he kicks her off, blasts her away with a forceful show of air compressed by his magick. Where she kicks, he punches. He grabs her leg at one point and throws her down to a level below. She crashes into the railing with a solid sickening crunch.</p><p>      The right half of her skull caved in following the circumference of the rail like a car bent around a tree trunk. Her eye bulges from its socket, the blood dripping from her chin as the façade melts under its warmth. The true appearance of Succubi is revealed. Cracked skin burns with hellish fire living inside them, burnt and splitting like something overcooked beyond recognition. Many, too many eyes, pop open over her body. All dance around wildly until they each find Nyx staring back, every iris a different color as if none are her own. As if she wears the eyes of her victims.</p><p>      Because that’s exactly what Succubi do. When they’ve fed, they take the eyes of their prey. Their once wandering eyes.</p><p>     “Look what you did. I’m hideous now.” She pouts. Apparently a partially caved in skull isn’t an issue for her. “I was gonna be nice and let what you saw before be the last thing you witness. So you can at least see something beautiful.”</p><p>      “You weren’t much to look at before anyway…” Nyx breathes, desperately keeping pressure to his arm as much as he can, sweating.</p><p>      She chuckles. Her voice sounds like a dozen at once, the voices of her kills. “By your standards.”</p><p>      Nyx doesn’t even realize she’s moved until she has him tackled to the floor and he’s using what’s left of his strength to keep her back by his hands. He can’t even summon his magick. The harder he pushes, the more his hands threaten to collapse into her body and that fire is sure to burn him down to the bone.</p><p>      “<em>I’ve always wanted to kill your kind</em>.” She snarls. Her head lowers until their faces are inches apart. Her breath smells metallic. “<em>Vampires love you so much that I’ve been dying of curiosity.</em>”</p><p>      Suddenly, there’s a blur of movement that whisks the Succubus away. Nyx grunts at the sharp removal of her weight, watching her body and the blur rocket to the top of the staircase then through the fire escape door to the rooftop. Nyx strains his ears to listen. There’s silence for the longest time. Then pleading screams and shrieks.</p><p>      Then nothing again.</p><p>      His vision blurs and swirls. He so doesn’t want to move right now but they need to get to Ileana. And Cain, Freya, MC. Stupid blood loss. Why couldn’t he be immune to that like he is the cold?</p><p>      The heavy door above swings open with a squeak. The blur appears overhead, rapidly descending until it lands solidly mere feet away. The blur is Cassius. Of course it is. But he seems… different somehow.</p><p>      “Where is she…?” Nyx asks, his voice too quiet for his own liking.</p><p>      “Agents got her. While you were fighting her, I called for backup. She was already on their watchlist.” He comes closer and bends down, hooking his arms under Nyx to lift him to his chest. “Morgyn is with them, so we’ll get you healed and fixed.”</p><p>      Nyx rolls his eyes back into closing them. “Move quickly… we gotta get to them.” His words slur slightly.</p><p>      “I got a bit of your blood in me, Nyx. You don’t have to worry about speed.”</p>
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